An Angel & His Boy
by AlexXxandro
Summary: When Collin Reemes cheats death by way of an unbreakable agreement, his world is thrown into a state of chaos..


_**Verse 1: Untold Nightmares**_

_Bright as day,_

_Dark as night,_

_the blood on your hands,_

_Shall never escape my sight,_

_No matter where you go,_

_I will be there,_

_Reaping the sins you sew,_

_Until I've every strand of hair_

_**March 19, 1911. Day 1**_

_My name is Collin Reemes. I am thirteen years old, and the sole survivor of the Massacre of the century. Some say it was luck.. Bah, luck. That nonsense is just a myth. Luck is just a dumbfounded explanation for good fortune. You can't get lucky.. And yet, while I sit here, writing away.. I feel I have been extremely lucky. You see, at the time of the mass murder, I was only an infant; two years old to be exact. I survived by mere luck, when an angel had saved me.._

**"Collin, wake up. It's morning." Soft footsteps echoed in the dark of a room, signaling a presence had crept it's way inside. Although the dim noise hadn't bothered the sleeping heap on the bed yet. A flick of a wrist, and light poured into the room. The morning sunshine cast it's rays across the crimson carpeted floors, and the oak walls. It radiated off of the ivory desk that rested peacefully in the center of the room. A single book was atop the wooden frame, it's black cover desperately trying to hide itself from the sun's path. The four poster bed, made of the most precious metals, illuminated with the light. This room may have been exposed to the light that is morning, but it held a dark aura about it. **

**A tall, slender figure stood next to the bed. It's frame was dressed in the latest fashion, although the wearer despised such things as clothing. Black trousers that were pinned and pressed to perfection. Shoes made from the finest leather money could buy, but the thought was a waste. Really, who would pay so much for something so trivial. A fitted white, button up shirt was out of place, the ends being exposed instead of stuffed in the pants like a gentleman would do. To think people dressed like this on a daily basis sickened the silhouette. Of all the things to spend money on, clothing had apparently become a necessity. It was horrid. **

**"Collin, I won't ask you again. Get up, or you'll be late for school." The sheets with which the figure communicated moved only slightly. All was quiet for a moment, that is, until the white blankets decided to slide off of a boy. His hair was such a mess. A pity, since it had a rather elegant color. It reminded Lucifer of a raven's feathers. "Ah, so you finally decided to wake up, hm? Well don't take to long. I don't plan on babysitting you all day." The boy spoke not a word, only nodded. His petite frame would cause others to worry he wasn't getting an adequate diet, though were reassured countless times the boy ate only the best cuisines. As he rolled from his bed and strode across the room with a sluggish walk, Collin ignored the beautiful morning that welcomed him. He scoffed at the breakfast that was waiting for him on a gleaming silver platter. "Do me a favor Lucifer.." The room's other occupant straightened up at his name called. "Yes?" Collin grew quiet once more, most likely lost in dreams of some kind. "Take care of that problem from yesterday.." A quick flash of white lit up Lucifer's face. His sharp teeth eagerly awaiting a fresh meal. "As you wish. I will dispose of him right away." A quickly placed turned caused the man to vanish from the bedroom, leaving Collin alone. Something he had wanted since the beginning of the pointless visit Lucifer demanded on doing each morning. "For such an exquisite creature, he has such an odd outlook on things.." **

_To die is an adventure_

_None know where your soul shall travel_

_None know what your soul shall witness_

_Nor know when eternity will end_

_Yet, to die_

_Means sacrificing life_

_Tell me,_

_Why are you afraid of death?_

_**"What nonsense are you babbling on about? And who are you? How did you get in here? I locked the doors and barricaded the only entrance. There's no way any person could get in."**_

_But when have I stated I am a person_

_Because I am not of flesh and blood_

_But of grace and passion_

_My wings know not of feathers_

_But of humble care and love_

_**"Tsk. Quit playing games! I demand you answer my questions! Who are you? How did you manage to get in? What do you want?"**_

_To know what is and is not_

_Don't you think that's rather odd_

_Understanding and believing_

_Two different things,_

_Yet they form a perfect union_

_**"Damn it, enough of your useless riddling! I'll give you one last chance! Identify yourself, or you'll be killed where yo- Fly?"**_

_Seeing is believing_

_Believing is seeing_

_I am not of this human earth_

_But of the heavens above_

_My name is Lucifer_

_And I can save one of you from despair_

_If only you ask_

**"Father.. Why did you make such a reckless choice.." **

_**March 19, 1911. Day 1: 0830 Hours**_

**A sharp bell rang to life in the distance. It's charm echoed through the quiet town known as Darst. Not a one was shocked or surprised by the toll. It had become standard in this place, signifying the start of the day. Collin Reemes sat comfortably in a horse drawn carriage. Some gawked at the sight. Others shrugged it off as the usual snob rolling into town in order to flaunt their riches. The prestigious gold that crafted the carriage's frame seemed almost inhuman. Wheels upon silver frames jerked and spun along the cobblestone, chattering up a storm as a snap filled the air. A second, followed by a third. Lucifer seemed to be enjoying the brief second of torment he was dealing onto the horses. His silver hair flew back with the small breeze that shifted to life with the movement of the coach. The man looked handsome and held a sense of high standards about him, although this was merely an act. **

**Eleven years. That's how long it's been. Lucifer has watched over this boy for a decade and then some. The idea of protecting a human boy disgusted him to no end. He was magnificent, elegant, eternal. And here was some dieing old goat who's only wish seemed to have spurred a tone of compassion. **

_**"Save my son! That's all I ask! Leave me to die, I have lived a full life. But save my boy!"**_

_Love is such a simple thing_

_Given to those that are dear_

_Taken from those who are unworthy_

_The love for a son is no exception_

_I would love for your soul_

_To become mine_

_But with this request, I shall fulfill_

_With God as my witness_

_This boy shall come to no harm_

_And live a full life_

_But when his time has reached yours_

_And he is uttering his last breath_

_His soul shall be mine_

_To harness and cherish_

_For all Eternity_

**And to think, that day was so very long ago. The day that has become known as the Massacre of the Century; due to it's special date. January 1st, 1900. The very first day of the new century. It was such a pleasant day. The humans celebrated in their normal manner, except for one unlucky fellow. Heart broken and insane with lust, this poor soul found himself killing anyone and everyone who he deemed worthy. His blade would feel flesh a dozen times, and a dozen more before the night's end. The clothes on his back stained in the crimson of his prey. The hunter biding his time and condemning the hunted. His tale would be spoken throughout the years to come. The once momentous day now ruined with such a horrific past. **

**On that day, Lucifer had made a special arrangement. Something only heard of in legend. Crazed sorcerers spoke of it, dieing scholars breathed it's secrets on their death bed. This deal of the dead. A sacrificial blood pact. It is the ultimate gesture of life for love, yet it's terms bring grief and terror. One must willingly give their life for a loved one. In return, that loved one will be protected for life. Stalked by an unbreakable guard. Followed by something normal minds would call the walking dead. In short, someone like Lucifer.**

_Angels_

_Such incredible creatures they are_

_Wings as grand as the skies above_

_Souls as pure as gold_

_Yet, not all are so grand_

_So pure, no_

_Their souls stained by desire_

_By want_

_These fallen angels,_

_Cast down from the heavens above_

_To live their endless lives as outcasts_

_Powers present_

_Desires overpowering_

_These are the sinners of heaven_

_The ones who wish for more_

**"Here we are Collin. You're running a bit late, so hurry off to class." The brass knob that connected to the overly extravagant door of the coach was cold to the touch. But Lucifer had no touch. He felt no cold, no warmth. His body was a shell, simply something for him to hide in. With a jerk, the door swung open, revealing it's precious component. Collin stepped out, staring about. Despite coming to this place on a daily basis, the thought of it always struck a sense of awe in the young boy. His studies were among the top priorities, yet he had no use for them. Nothing he would learn in this establishment would benefit him in his later years. "Such a waste.." The stone beneath the young master's feet was unstable. It made the short journey to the door of the learning center an odd one, causing Collin to stumble quite a bit. **

**Lucifer watched with a protective gaze, his sights never once leaving the boy. If he were to fail in his end of the bargain, the worst would befall him. Death would be a kind thing compared to the punishment he would receive. To be burned alive would be child's play. Drowning, a mere obstacle that could not stand close to the cruelty of a failure as large as his. So he would stand and guard. Watching over the cargo he was bestowed with. He would follow the boy, until the very end of Collin Reemes.**

**A cold glare. The pupils not once moving. Dark red eyes casting their displeasure upon the miscreants before them. Such a simple order. Kill the boy. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so, because these fools found the task much too difficult. One had even been ripped apart, by an angel even! Disgusted. That was the only world that could fathom into the mind of Graveel. "Disgust!" The word boomed through his lips, shaking the frames that sprawled out before him. "Incompetence! I have given you chances, and you still return empty handed? What must I do! Please, if there's anything that I may do to help complete your assignment, let me know." **

**One daring individual was stupid enough to gaze upon his master. The blood red hair that so many knew him by had been tied back into a ponytail. His elder features and decaying flesh was a sight for sore eyes, but his majestic attitude made up for any lose ends. The robes Graveel had known to love coated his frame. A simple minded idiot would think it be a monk's attire. But no, these garments were that of one with great power. The pitch black that clouded the cloth represented the wearer's significance in this world. He, Graveel. The bearer of fears. The bond between the living and dead. The Reaper himself. "My most humble apologizes..But we weren't expecting the angel.. H-He was a problem.." A wave of annoyed silence filled the make shift room. Several pieces of furniture, no down looted, were placed in odd positions. The space itself wasn't that of a structure or building, but of stone and dirt. A well dug out cavern. A variety of digging tools were bundled together in the corner. Most wearing from their usage. A simple wooden table stood proud and erect, stretching along the western wall of the cave. Opposite of it were an arrangement of papers spread out across a series of smaller desks. Blueprints with complicated ideas and designs. Financial receipts and tickets, dating back to the beginning of the century. **

**All these were necessary of course. How was one supposed kill someone without some insight? However, these helpful sheets of information did little to relieve the burden that rested with Graveel. This pathetic child had taken up too much of his time. Taken too long of his life. That fateful night, when he came knocking to due his duties, he did not expect to be bested. That black day where he raised his scythe in delight, dragging away the souls of the dead. Yet, one had somehow cheated death. His demonic weapon could not pierce the skin. No blood trickled down the infant's neck, nor was he able to silence it's cries. As to why, Graveel had no thoughts. _Sheer luck is what I call it.. _**

**His body was aching for rest. It cried out in agony at the lingering minutes until it received the satisfaction of sleep. The mind already playing it's usual dreary tricks. But no, these signs came far too early. It was early morning, indeed, but why should he sleep? He had plans to set in motion, work to be done. And the Reaper would certainly not place his trust in the buffoons in front of him. Nonetheless, his body had beaten his will. He would retire, for now, and execute his revenge later that night. Oh! The wonderful feeling he suddenly felt, when his mind showed him the image of a dead thirteen year old and his bodyguard angel, weeping at his side. Graveel would enjoy his prey this time. He would take in all the sights, and make the process slow and memorable. This brat had would cause him no more grief. No more haunted dreams would plague the almighty sower of death. Tonight, he will feast like a king, and reminisce on the deed he will have committed. "Be gone! Go find some poor fool to torture until I call for you again. I'm tired, and wish to sleep. I will need the strength for tonight's party. Now, out!" **

**Scurrying away was something Graveel's minions were cleverly good at. The pale faces shot back a look of astonishment and gratefulness as they fled the cavern. They made no hesitations in leaving. They may be a couple of useless pawns, but even those men were smart enough to know when to leave Graveel to himself. If they had stayed. No, those ideas would not enter their mind. Not this time, anyways. The Reaper slumped in the one chair that would offer anyone support in the cave. A throne like seat, only worthy enough for Graveel himself. Or, so he had claimed. In truth, it was just an ordinary stool he had forged when first arriving in the cave. It was something that would stand with him until the very end of the dragging hunt he has come to hate. "My dear friend, although you are simply my throne, you hold as much burden as I do myself. But I promise you this, soon our terrors will be put to an end. Now, let us sleep while we can. Tonight, I do the bidding only the devil would see amusing. And tomorrow.." His voice trailed off, leaving behind a hint of sadness. Yes, the hunt would be over soon. But he had been playing cat and mouse for so long, Graveel was almost a little disappointed it would be ending. "Bah, what a nuisance this whole thing has become.." And so, he quieted his thoughts and closed his eyes, letting the welcomed feeling of sleep overtake him until he was called to duty once more.**


End file.
